


not a burden

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Rape Aftermath, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28455759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: PLEASE READ THE TAGStommy got harassed, and techno notices he's acting weird.prompt: h/c assaultPLEASE READ THE TAGS
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 410





	not a burden

**Author's Note:**

> TW// PAST RAPE

Tommy didn’t tell his family about what happened that night, the night he decided he didn’t need Techno by his side to take him home after the sun had set. He was a big man, he could walk home on his own.

That way of thinking was quickly proven stupid.

He came home that night with ripped clothing and without underwear, feeling dirty and used and in desperate need of a shower. When he took one, he scrubbed furiously at his skin, trying to wash the feeling of hands off his body, but no matter how much soap he used they were always still there.

He bundled himself in blankets on his bed, feeling tears slipping from his tightly shut eyes. He wept silently, not wanting his family to come in and worry.

Wilbur was stressed from work and Techno was stressed from work and school, he didn’t need to be a burden.

Something in his gut told him he was already one, though.

The next morning, he woke up with cool light streaming in from his open window, pooling by the door and leaving his eyes in a rather nice sort of half-light. He sighed into the pillow, basking in his morning sleepy comfort before he remembered the events of the night before. The pillow became immediately less comfortable, the sheets he was tangled in became sharp and the cotton bit at his skin. He was suddenly hyper aware of everything around him, and he turned his face away from the bits of dust floating in the air, made visible by the sunlight.

He felt dirty.

Dirty and disgusting and alone.

He hauled himself out of bed, tearing himself away from the warm comfort of the plush mattress. He stood, turning and looked at his unmade bed, debating getting back in or not. He decided that if he got back in he probably wouldn’t get back out until the sun was down, so he reluctantly walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth and start his day.

Tommy had always wondered why Techno bought the sharpest tasting toothpaste, since it always mildly stung his tired, sleep filled mouth in the morning. Now he didn’t mind it, since the taste overwhelmed his immediate thoughts and got them off of the incident.

His time of peace ended shortly. He spat the pastel gunk into the sink, washed his toothbrush, laid it on the side of the sink, cupped his hands and filled them with water. He raised his hands to his mouth and tried to maneuver his mouth to fit the odd shape of his joined wrists. He spilled some water on the side of the sink but got most of it, and he sloshed the water around his slimy-feeling mouth. It was refreshing, and when he spat it back out he felt cleaner.

He felt a strange wetness in his pants, and went to check. Oh. He was bleeding. 

He didn’t want to think about that part of his body at all, so he just balled up some toilet paper and pressed it as flat as he could, putting it in the middle-back of his briefs, and then stood up and closed his eyes, trying to forget it. 

Nothing happened. 

Nothing happened, and he would not think about it.

So he moved on with his day. He decided to get dressed first.

It was a Wednesday, so he had school. School started at nine. It was now… Tommy left the bathroom and robotically walked to his room, checking the obnoxious red numbers on his digital clock. 7:30. He had time. What did he come in here to do, again?

He didn’t remember. 

Maybe breakfast would help.

As soon as Tommy got to the kitchen and felt the blast of cool air from opening the fridge, he noticed that his appetite was completely gone. He closed the fridge and opened the painted white cabinet next to it, taking a box of his favorite cereal: Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He turned the box around, seeing the giant face of the mascot on the back. Its large eyes were taunting him.

_You’re acting weird. Act normal. It was your fault, anyway._

He was sure that if he told Phil, he would get help. Phil would help him.

_You’re really gonna bother Phil with this? Seriously? Phil probably already regrets adopting you, with how you act every day. That would be the final straw, and then you’d be homeless. Then you wouldn’t have Cinnamon Toast Crunch._

Phil loved him. He was very loved. Techno loved him too. So did Wilbur. He could go to any one of them and they would support him. He didn’t have to do this alone.

_They all have shit to worry about! They’ve got enough on their plates. You would be stressing them out more than they need to be. You would be a burden._

He knew he wasn’t a burden.

He wasn’t a burden.

_Keep lying to yourself._

[][][][][]

Techno was an observant fellow. He didn’t talk much, but he was always watching people, absorbing as much information as he could.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Tommy was acting weird, and it started the day after Techno let Tommy go home alone for once. Something had probably happened that night, Techno concluded.

He decided to confront Tommy about it.

It was Saturday, and the family didn’t have anything to do for the whole day, so Techno slumped into the rickety wooden chair across from Tommy at the breakfast table. The boy looked up and raised his eyebrows at Techno’s slumped form and furrowed brow. He meant business.

“Tommy.”

“What, dickhead?” His voice uncharacteristically wavered in question.

“What happened on Tuesday night?”

“Tuesday night…” Tommy raised his gaze to the ceiling, scrunching his lips and humming as if he was thinking, but Techno had known him, _observed_ him long enough that he could easily see through his confused exterior and at the glint of panic in his eyes. He was scrambling for an excuse. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just tell me.”

“I left the theater with Tubbo at… I don’t know, ten? Eleven maybe? He went left and I went right and then I walked home. I came home, showered, and went to bed. What are you on about?”

“Something else happened, and you’re not telling me.”

Tommy got up to put his bowl in the sink. He never did that. Techno got up too and followed him to where he was leaning over the sink.

Grabbing him roughly by the shoulder, Techno turned him around and kept a _very_ firm grip on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy stared wide-eyed at him, but it didn’t feel like he was looking at him. He was looking through him, seeing something that wasn’t Techno as his breath hitched.

“Tommy?”

Tommy didn’t answer. The blonde’s breathing quickened, and he became stiff as a board under Techno’s large, heavy hand. “Please stop. Please. I’ll do anything. Please, sir.”

_Sir?_

Techno let go of Tommy’s shoulder and the boy collapsed onto the dirty tiled floor. They would really have to clean soon.

Tommy was mumbling a nearly indecipherable string of pleas, apologies and ‘sir’s, and Techno was concerned. He tried to reach out again, gentler this time, to put a hand on his shoulder, but Tommy violently flinched and let out a choked sob.

Techno didn’t know what the fuck to do, but he recognized this behavior, and he was going to fucking _murder_ whoever caused it.

He ended up getting Phil to console Tommy, and eventually, after gentle coos and words of encouragement, Tommy was back.

Phil gave Techno a look, and Techno understood it as Phil asking him to leave, so he did. He pretended he didn’t hear Tommy’s sobs in the next room, since the proud boy wouldn’t have wanted him to hear them, as he sharpened his axe and pulled on his boots.


End file.
